Rebuilding Ferelden Together
by Resoan
Summary: Alistair is broken up over the Warden conscripting Loghain and then allowing him to end the Blight. He and Anora have a talk once the Warden leaves Denerim for parts unknown, since they are to marry and become the Royal Couple. Alistair's POV.


This is set at the end of Origins, and will contain spoilers! This fanfiction assumes the ending where a female warden conscripted Loghain (who died killing the archdemon) and had Anora marry Alistair. No, Anora and Alistair aren't technically paired...just getting married, no love involved.

I do not own Dragon Age.

This has not been beta-read. Any and all mistakes are mine and I apologize ahead of time for them.

Please review once you've finished! Enjoy!

Together

Alistair looked over the Courtyard at the Royal Palace in Denerim, the sky filled with ominous, grey clouds and reflecting his mood if nothing else. The sun was hidden away, just like his happiness, though ironically all of Ferelden was no doubt celebrating the recent Grey Warden triumph over the Archdemon and the darkspawn. The Blight was officially ended, and here Alistair remained, veritably alone and miserable, estranged from the one woman he thought he could love and trust with his feelings and insecurities, his faults and shortcomings (as numerous as they were), everything that had ever fallen from his lips and existed in his now-shell of a heart.

He felt like a broken sword, exploited for its usefulness until he had become worn-down and blunt, until finally he had been cast aside as little more than a political bargaining chip. He had foolishly agreed to accept the throne, and even gone so far as to agree to marry Anora once Ferelden was secure. He supposed he should have seen her treachery for what it was then and there, but he had childishly assumed she would fulfill her promise that Loghain would be shown justice. Had that been such an...outlandish request? Loghain had all but murdered Duncan, Cailan, and all the soldiers and Grey Wardens at Ostagar, nearly them as well had Flemeth had not intervened! What business did she and Riordan have, recruiting Loghain into the very organization he was trying to destroy?

She had just left the castle, Anora meeting her in one of the private chambers though Alistair had deigned to meet her as well. He had no desire to see her pleading, treacherous eyes, nor hear her doubtlessly-rehearsed explanations and excuses as to why she had allowed Loghain the glory of defeating the Blight. Yet, he could not forget her gentle touch, the knowing look in her eyes when he had pulled her aside that one fateful night at camp. The pain from that memory alone brought tears to the King-to-be's eyes.

"Maker's Breath! It shouldn't be so difficult to forget her," Alistair pounded an un-gauntleted fist onto the stone windowsill, his fist throbbing with pain as tears streamed down his cheeks swiftly and silently. Sensing his further distress, a streak of lightning illumined the dark, Denerim sky, a crack of thunder not far behind its bright companion. Finally hearing sounds of praise and jubilation drifting up from the courtyard, Alistair's eyes traveled to find the woman in question, his eyes squeezing shut moments later. Zevran was at her side, the elf laughing at something she stated before they too left the safety of the castle gates and continued away from him, Alistair trying to convince himself that he didn't care where she went or who she traveled with while doing so.

"I see you would rather stew in your pain instead of seeing her off," Alistair abruptly turned on his heel to glare at his unwanted visitor, the Queen standing in his doorway, arms crossed over her chest and her lips pulled in a tight line. "She did not ask after you, for you are no doubt curious," Anora continued, the blonde unfazed by Alistair's look which more resembled a kicked puppy than an angry fiancé.

"Leave me alone, Anora," Alistair finally turned around, the Warden vainly attempting to steel his features into something more suitable for greeting another human being. "You can't possibly know how I feel," Alistair then continued in a whisper, his fist clenching over his heart as his chin fell forward and propping on his breastbone.

"You're wrong, Alistair," Anora approached quietly and slowly, the Queen unsure how to best go about what she had in mind. "I loved Cailan; he was my husband, and my father...allowed him to fall at Ostagar," Anora turned her head from Alistair, the Queen now at his side.

"Your _father_ is the last person I want to talk about," Alistair spat, Anora grimacing though Alistair could not see the expression. "I lost the woman I love because of that...that monster!" Alistair seethed, his chest heaving with unshed tears and repressed anger.

"You think I don't know that, Alistair?" Anora held her ground, her vivid blue eyes lifting to gaze relentlessly into Alistair's. "Do you think I loved Cailan any less than you loved the Warden?" Anora's voice became quieter, more timid the more she spoke, Alistair's anger fading as he finally noticed her pain. "You are not the only one to lose that which you love dearly, Alistair," Anora continued quietly, her voice filled with an inner strength and moving Alistair more than he cared to admit. "We are to wed, and Ferelden will need us. Do not let your emotions supersede the country," Anora continued in what she hoped was a strong tone, Alistair finally sighing, his eyes glancing out the window once again.

"You're right, but Maker, it won't be the same. I don't know how to be a king...I never expected this, or wanted it. It was all her...," Alistair's voice trailed off, his eyes glazing over as memories began to play in his mind.

"She believed in you enough to rule this country, Alistair. She has faith, and grudgingly, I admit I do as well," Anora told him with a half-smile, Alistair's eyes widening before he turned to look at his incredulously.

"Now _that's_ nothing I expected to hear from you," Alistair admitted with a sigh, finally turning to sit on the lone bed in the room, his head falling into his hands.

Lips pursed, Anora approached, a prickling at the corners of her eyes the only indication that she felt tears threatening. _He looks so much like Cailan..._, Anora took a shaky breath, her bare hand tentatively laying on Alistair's shoulder. "We...we will endure, Alistair," Anora spoke in a broken tone, Alistair surprised by her honesty though the thought was not the foremost on his mind.

"You're right," Alistair agreed, his tone just as intrepid and shaky, their eyes meeting and each seeing a mirror image of lost love and pain. "We'll make a country Cailan would be proud of," Alistair finished with a small smile, his hand moving to cup over hers in a kind gesture, Anora relying on his strength for that one, brief moment. _I'll make a country you'll be proud of me for as well, Warden_, Alistair added inwardly, his smile watery though no more tears falling down his cheeks.

They had much to rebuild, and crying together in a clandestine room in the palace would not help the people of Ferelden with that task. They would work through the pain, together, and hopefully keep their silent vows to rebuild the country to Cailan and the Warden, respectively.


End file.
